


Cicadas

by intelligentgravity



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, a bit of smut, cicada song, hot days, nothing too energetic, summer smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intelligentgravity/pseuds/intelligentgravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer in Kansas is hotter than Scott remembers. But then, he hasn't been there with Kayo like this before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cicadas

It's too hot. The ceiling fan spinning above them seems to do little more than move hot air around.

They’re lying on Jeff’s old bed in the homestead in Kansas. It was out of nostalgia and convenience more than anything else that they came here, touching Thunderbird One down in the paddock behind the barn. Something pinged in the engine on the last rescue, so Scott decided to stop and repair it before flying home, so as not to exacerbate the fault.

They didn’t count on Kansas in the middle of summer. Sure, the island is hot, but it usually has a fresh sea breeze. This heat is like being smothered. They’ve both discarded their uniforms in favour of the shorts and tee-shirts they wear beneath, and lie stretched on the king-sized bed with a fan on a chair blowing over them.

Kayo’s green running shorts ride up her thigh as she shifts to get more comfortable. Scott watches her leg, the way sweat makes her skin look like satin. The light is dimmer in here because she’s pulled the curtains, but sometimes a rogue breeze tosses them and sends a lance of light across the bed.

“It’s noisy,” Kayo says. A moment later she reaches behind herself, her body arching upwards as she does so. Scott is distracted, not realising that she’s taking off her bra until it has been tossed to the floor. She wriggles her shoulders and sighs in relief. “Better.”

“Noisy?” he asks, trying not to look at the way her nipples press against the thin cotton tee.

When they’d first met, she’d been a child a little younger than Virgil. She’d got into fights a lot, and she yelled louder and more aggressively than his brothers. He’d found her a little too much at times. When he’d come back from his first deployment, she’d become almost a grown woman, just as spirited but more controlled and confident. Over time she has proven herself to be a trusted and loyal lieutenant, of sound judgement and a quick eye, noticing details he does not.

Over time, she’s become someone he wants to know a good deal _better_. He’s been working his way towards pursuing her for the past month, dropping hints in smiles and touches. His hand brushes against her arm now, and when she reacts he shrugs in a non-apology.

“Cicadas. They come up, make a big racket for a while, make love, then they die. Gordon told me,” Kayo says, flinging her arm over her face. “It’s their one ambition in life. Making little baby cicadas.”

“Fucking,” Scott says, his tone low. Kayo shifts her arm a little, and he can see her eyes peering at him, trying to figure him out. He watches her right back. He’s on his side, one arm under his head, and he gives her that smile, the innocent look with the dimples that usually has girls swooning. She just narrows her eyes and lowers her arm, crossing it over her chest.

The cicadas make their courting song. Family photos of the boys smile from the walls, alongside a large portrait of Jeff and Lucille on their wedding day. A calendar from 2057 hangs on the wardrobe door, featuring vintage cars—a Christmas gift from Alan. The last year Jeff spent enough time in this house to warrant the use of one. It’s still hanging on October, John’s birthday circled in red.

Kayo’s still watching him, and it’s becoming almost a challenge to see who will break eye contact first. “What are you doing?” she asks softly, her other arm crossing her waist. She looks like she’s holding herself in.

Scott doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want to make things awkward, but he’s fairly confident that if she _were_ to reject him, and he doesn't think she will, she would be practical about it. They still need to work together, after all. Her hair is loose on the pillow, and he runs his fingers through the ends, losing the challenge to look at it.

She lets him do it, waiting for him to speak. He can see she’s worked something out, but her face is a mask, studiously blank. “I think it’d be good if we got to know each other a bit better,” he says, and she raises one eyebrow at him. “If you’d like to, of course.”

“We’re already quite well acquainted.” Kayo’s voice is still quiet, but there’s something hidden away in her tone, perhaps amusement, that makes him think his suit is not lost. Scott gives her a dry look that makes the corner of her mouth twitch upward.

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Flatterer.” There’s something else now. The challenge is back. Something that says, ‘you can do better than that’. She tips her chin up a little, and he leans in, his mouth fashioned in its best kissable pout.

And she laughs. She _laughs_ , and pushes him back. “Oh _please_ , Scott, don’t practice your playbook on me. I know you’re out of practice, but this is ridiculous. Did you really convince anyone with that face?”

He huffs a sigh, semi-offended at her response. How dare she disparage him? He’s spent many years perfecting that look. He is very aware of the effect it usually has on women. But Kayo is not _any_ woman, and that is precisely why he wants her. “I did all right.”

“Lowest common denominator, I’m sure,” she replies with a smirk.

Scott snorts. “And how many men have you snared by laughing at them?”

“None, so far,” she says coolly, unperturbed. “When I go after men I appreciate a bit of directness.”

The cicadas seem to be getting louder, or it could be the way his blood rushes through his ears. Scott looks down at her, and knows that he has to try, whatever the consequences. So he kisses her, and it’s too fast and their teeth bump, but she puts a hand on his cheek to steady him and it’s golden.

Neither of them smells great. They’re hot and a little dirty, from the rescue and from fixing the engine before giving up to escape the midday heat. But to Scott, this moment is perfect. Kayo kisses him just right, her mouth soft and pliant against his own, tongues sliding against each other languidly. Her breast is warm under the fingers he’s slid beneath her tee-shirt, nipple hardening as he toys with it. She sighs, tilting her head back, and he presses kisses against her jaw. She is glorious, she is amazing, and he wants her to remember him, and this, and not get a case of ‘logic’ and ‘practicality’ come their return home.

His hand grazes down the front of her shorts, fingers searching, and she starts and grabs his wrist. “Scott—” Her green eyes are wide and dark, searching his face for something. He smiles softly.

“We don’t have to. Say the word and we stop,” he says, dropping a kiss on her mouth. She hesitates still, undecided, so he lifts one hand to stroke her cheek. “Do you want to do this?”

A moment longer. Perhaps she isn’t as immune to his dimples as she pretends she is, because she abruptly nods and kisses the inside of his wrist. “Yes. I do.”

He wishes he could lay her out bare in his own bed and have his way with her immediately. He wants to be able to mark every inch of her as his own, but instead he is on his father’s bed, his fingers buried between her thighs, lips moving over her throat as she gasps and shudders, climaxing in a sweaty, sticky mess under his expert hand. He holds her against him as her pulse slows and she gets her breath back.

Kayo reaches for him, going to return the favour, but he stops her, despite how hard he is. “Next time,” he says, dropping his head to the pillow. There’s something good about holding off, about the delayed gratification. He wants to pick the time and the place, and do it properly. She gives him a slightly perplexed look but shrugs and relaxes, turning her face away and closing her eyes. He lies next to her, fingers stroking through her thick hair.

It’s too hot. They fall asleep to the breeze from the window, the hum of the fan, and the noisy singing of the cicadas.


End file.
